"Zombies?"
Upon hearing this, Guinevere immediately frowned:
"But shouldn't zombies lose mobility as long as you blow their heads off?"
"That's the old version of zombies," Grimm retorted.
"The powerful ones have evolved to the point that even decapitation or being split in half won't kill them anymore."
"In short, what we're dealing with now is nothing more than a soulless, brainless, thoughtless mass of proliferating flesh. Its meat will keep multiplying endlessly, devouring everything it touches, until it fills all of Britain..."
"Maybe it won't even stop then. By that time, we'll all be dead anyway, and who knows what comes after? Maybe this thing will swallow the entire Earth."
"Come on, man, isn't this thing just a Celtic beast-god? Not some world-ending demon-god? Why does it sound way worse than humanity's evil?" Guinevere's eyes widened.
"If it were just Cernunnos himself, of course he wouldn't reach this level... but his corpse was tampered with by some other deity, which is why it turned into this..."
"Huh?"
Guinevere froze.
Cernunnos' body had been tampered with by someone? What kind of setting was this? He'd never heard anyone mention this back when he was following the story online.
"So then, which god messed with it? Is there really some hidden powerhouse lurking in Fairyland?"
"I don't know!" Grimm's voice rose in frustration. "Its divine power is bizarre, completely unlike any god I know. The only thing I can confirm is that its domain should be death—and it belongs to some obscure, fringe pantheon!"
"Now isn't the time to argue about that, is it?" Noknare turned around anxiously. "The urgent matter is how to deal with this zombie Cernunnos. Grimm! Since you know about this thing, tell us—how do we get rid of it?"
...Grimm fell silent for a moment before finally speaking. "In theory, fire should temporarily halt its growth. But to truly erase it, we'd need some kind of super high-firepower Noble Phantasm to wipe Cernunnos' entire corpse away."
...Huh?
Everyone present simultaneously drew a question mark in silence.
"Where are we supposed to find a Noble Phantasm with that kind of firepower!" Noknare nearly laughed in exasperation.
Cernunnos' defense was so absurd that even Artoria's Sword of Promised Victory could only blast out a crater a few hundred meters wide on him. But considering the size of his entire body... were they expecting Artoria to keep firing hundreds of Excaliburs non-stop to kill him?
"If it's about erasing Cernunnos entirely, we do have one option."
At this moment, Gareth, who had remained silent, finally spoke:
"The original, unbound Holy Sword of the Stars can accomplish it."
The place fell dead silent.
The group exchanged glances, all showing pained expressions. They opened their mouths but no words came. Finally, Grimm sighed and said slowly:
"But that would mean Artoria must strike the final bell... and for that final prophetic bell to sound, we'd need to find the corpse of the last Clan Head of the Mirrors."
He paused, then continued:
"And after that, Artoria must return to Avalon to fulfill her mission..."
As he spoke, his eyes swept the room, finally resting on Gareth and Artoria:
"Have you both steeled your resolve?"
"Of course. If I'm saying this, then I've already accepted it." Gareth scratched her cheek, then cast an apologetic look at Artoria. "But still... I feel guilty toward Artoria..."
"No, Gareth, you have nothing to apologize for."
Artoria shook her head with a bitter smile:
"This was my mission from the very beginning. The reason I once wanted to abandon it was because I believed Britain didn't need such a sword then, so I had no reason to persist... But now, that reason exists, doesn't it?"
As she spoke, the others wore looks of pity. But in the end, they turned away in silence, except...
"I don't agree."
Guinevere's voice was firm and decisive:
"This plan—I don't agree."
"Sacrificing Artoria and Gareth just to beat that thing? There's no such logic. I refuse to accept it."
"...Sigh."
Grimm exhaled, then suddenly raised his staff and walked forward.
"Talk it over again, persuade him if you can, or say your final goodbyes... I'll buy you some time."
He raised his staff and began chanting loudly:
"Burn to ash, O giant of trees! Become a prison of flame, a scorching cage of fire!"
With his incantation, a flaming giant dozens of meters tall rose from the ground ahead. The moment it appeared, it hurled itself at the proliferating remains of Cernunnos. At the first touch, under Grimm's control, the giant exploded, engulfing half of Cernunnos' massive face in a sea of fire.
Then Grimm waved both hands again, chanting quickly, summoning yet another flame giant, which also lunged at Cernunnos... and again exploded. This cycle repeated, with Grimm driving his fiery giants to self-destruct, creating wide swaths of fire to slow Cernunnos' proliferation.
After he left, the atmosphere among the remaining few grew awkward.
"I'll go help Grimm too."
With that, Noknare turned and left, dragging the unconscious Barguest with her...
Soon after, Gareth followed. Before leaving, she paused, bowed slightly to Guinevere and Artoria:
"I'm truly sorry... I was the one who brought up such a difficult choice... Forgive me. If I need to be sacrificed as the Bell of Bones, just tell me."
Then she quickened her pace and left.
Soon, only Guinevere and Artoria remained.
"Um, Guinevere..."
Artoria forced a smile, scratching her cheek as she said:
"Actually, I'm not really sacrificing anything. I'll just return to Avalon, my homeland, and live there. That's all. I won't die. Maybe if I get a new mission in the future, I'll even come back to see you again..."
"When you lie, your hands always fidget in little ways," Guinevere cut her off. "Do you really think you can fool me?"
Her lie so quickly exposed, Artoria fell silent. After a few seconds, she finally lifted her head, eyes glistening with tears, her expression desolate:
"I know you don't want to lose me, Guinevere... I don't want to lose you either. But... we have no choice."
She lowered her head, biting her lip in anguish:
"This is our only option. If we can't obtain the Sword of the Stars, if we can't destroy Cernunnos, then all of Britain will be lost... I know you don't care about Britain. But if Britain falls, what then? What about Noknare, Bavanzi, Barguest—what happens to them?"
"Rather than all of us perishing, isn't it better for just Gareth and I to give up our lives to forge the Holy Sword? That's much better than everyone dying, isn't it?"
"I... I want to stay with you longer too... but don't we have no choice? Without the Sword, we can't win... So even for your sake, I must forge it..."
Guinevere was silent.
He knew Artoria was right. Aside from obtaining the Sword of the Stars, they had no way to kill Cernunnos.
And if they couldn't kill him, he would proliferate endlessly until Britain—and everyone in it—was swallowed whole. At this thought, Guinevere couldn't help but feel regret.
If only... if only they hadn't gone after Orkney's Shadow of Uther first. Then at least he could have fused with Uther and borrowed the power of the Elden King... But now, that path was blocked.
And aside from merging with Shadow Uther, Guinevere's remaining cards weren't enough to completely wipe out Cernunnos. Even Heavenly Fire wouldn't be enough. At most, he could burn away half of Cernunnos' godly body... but the other half, he had no means of touching.
But what did that mean?
After all his efforts since the Holy Sword trial, what did it all amount to?
In the end, it still came down to sacrificing Artoria and relying on the Sword of the Stars to solve everything?
What the hell was that supposed to mean?!
Suddenly, Guinevere said:
"I don't understand."
"What?" Artoria blinked, confused.
"I said," Guinevere took a deep breath and continued, "I don't understand this nonsense about us being unable to win without the Sword."
"Don't be ridiculous!" Artoria cried anxiously. "You can't possibly face an enemy you have no chance of defeating. You'll die—"
But before she could finish, Guinevere suddenly raised his sword and, in a flash, plunged it into his own chest.
"You—" The sight left Artoria, and everyone watching from afar, utterly stunned. "What are you doing?!"
...
Facing Artoria's panic and helplessness, Guinevere merely exhaled softly, then slowly pulled out the blade, blood gushing from his chest.
"Don't worry... I'm just cutting off my retreat."
Grimacing in pain, he still forced himself to continue:
"I have a special ability, called 'Return to Yang'... As long as I have it, even after suffering a fatal wound, I can forcibly extend my life for three more days before dying. And during that time, nothing can delay my death."
"You were right—if I fight that thing, I will definitely die... So, to prove my resolve, I've paid the price upfront."
He raised his head, meeting Artoria's tearful eyes, and said slowly:
"I will not let you forge yourself into a sword for me."
"Since I'm already doomed, then before I die, you must give me this chance. Let me spend these last three days trying to kill that monster. Call it my final service."
"Until then, you are forbidden from going to Avalon."
"I will prove to you that even without that sword, I can still cut down calamity!"